Contraras spoke in his most authoritative tones. “You have no choice. You took a solemn oath to obey the orders of the Chiefs of the organisation. As your Chief, I call upon you to do this.”
Violet Hargrave bowed her head submissively. She remembered there was a terrible penalty attached to hesitation or disobedience. She also recalled the fate of Valerie Delmonte, and her face went white.
Moreno thought to himself, “Infernal old scoundrel, he doesn’t care whom he sacrifices. And in the meanwhile he is living in luxury, and getting us poor devils to run all the risk.”
Aloud he said: “And what will you do with Guy Rossett when I deliver him to you?”
Contraras reflected before he spoke. “As I told you just now, I have not quite made up my mind.” He paused, and struck an imposing attitude. “You know, Moreno, it has always been my policy to strike at the head and heart of this effete system. The humbler members, mere tools of their superiors—well, I would be inclined to show them mercy.”
“I know that has always been your generous inclination,” replied Moreno, masking his loathing of this fanatical creature. “Well, I should say Rossett was quite a tool, very poor game.”
“I am inclined to agree with you. Still, he is active and dangerous, and a menace to the Cause. He knows too much about many of us.”
“Quite true, quite true,” said Moreno. He had an object in humouring this venerable visionary. He wanted to know what was at the back of his mind, what dark scheme he was working out in his subtle brain!
Contraras spoke in a meditative voice. “These Englishmen are strange people; they have a great respect for their word.”
“It is one of their peculiarities,” admitted Moreno drily.